The Garden of Paradise

by

Hans Christian Andersen

(1838)

HERE was once a king’s son who had a
larger and more beautiful collection of books than any one else in the
world, and full of splendid copper-plate engravings. He could read and
obtain information respecting every people of every land; but not a word
could he find to explain the situation of the garden of paradise, and
this was just what he most wished to know. His grandmother had told him
when he was quite a little boy, just old enough to go to school, that
each flower in the garden of paradise was a sweet cake, that the pistils
were full of rich wine, that on one flower history was written, on
another geography or tables; so those who wished to learn their lessons
had only to eat some of the cakes, and the more they ate, the more
history, geography, or tables they knew. He believed it all then; but as
he grew older, and learnt more and more, he became wise enough to
understand that the splendor of the garden of paradise must be very
different to all this. “Oh, why did Eve pluck the fruit from the tree of
knowledge? why did Adam eat the forbidden fruit?” thought the king’s son:
“if I had been there it would never have happened, and there would have
been no sin in the world.” The garden of paradise occupied all his
thoughts till he reached his seventeenth year.

One day he was walking alone in the wood, which was his greatest
pleasure, when evening came on. The clouds gathered, and the rain poured
down as if the sky had been a waterspout; and it was as dark as the
bottom of a well at midnight; sometimes he slipped over the smooth grass,
or fell over stones that projected out of the rocky ground. Every thing
was dripping with moisture, and the poor prince had not a dry thread
about him. He was obliged at last to climb over great blocks of stone,
with water spurting from the thick moss. He began to feel quite faint,
when he heard a most singular rushing noise, and saw before him a large
cave, from which came a blaze of light. In the middle of the cave an
immense fire was burning, and a noble stag, with its branching horns, was
placed on a spit between the trunks of two pine-trees. It was turning
slowly before the fire, and an elderly woman, as large and strong as if
she had been a man in disguise, sat by, throwing one piece of wood after
another into the flames.

“Come in,” she said to the prince; “sit down by the fire and dry
yourself.”

“There is a great draught here,” said the prince, as he seated himself on
the ground.

“It will be worse when my sons come home,” replied the woman; “you are
now in the cavern of the Winds, and my sons are the four Winds of heaven:
can you understand that?”

“Where are your sons?” asked the prince.

“It is difficult to answer stupid questions,” said the woman. “My sons
have plenty of business on hand; they are playing at shuttlecock with the
clouds up yonder in the king’s hall,” and she pointed upwards.

“Oh, indeed,” said the prince; “but you speak more roughly and harshly
and are not so gentle as the women I am used to.”

“Yes, that is because they have nothing else to do; but I am obliged to
be harsh, to keep my boys in order, and I can do it, although they are so
head-strong. Do you see those four sacks hanging on the wall? Well, they
are just as much afraid of those sacks, as you used to be of the rat
behind the looking-glass. I can bend the boys together, and put them in
the sacks without any resistance on their parts, I can tell you. There
they stay, and dare not attempt to come out until I allow them to do so.
And here comes one of them.”

It was the North Wind who came in, bringing with him a cold, piercing
blast; large hailstones rattled on the floor, and snowflakes were
scattered around in all directions. He wore a bearskin dress and cloak.
His sealskin cap was drawn over his ears, long icicles hung from his
beard, and one hailstone after another rolled from the collar of his
jacket.

“Don’t go too near the fire,” said the prince, “or your hands and face
will be frost-bitten.”

“Frost-bitten!” said the North Wind, with a loud laugh; “why frost is my
greatest delight. What sort of a little snip are you, and how did you
find your way to the cavern of the Winds?”

“He is my guest,” said the old woman, “and if you are not satisfied with
that explanation you can go into the sack. Do you understand me?”

That settled the matter. So the North Wind began to relate his
adventures, whence he came, and where he had been for a whole month. “I
come from the polar seas,” he said; “I have been on the Bear’s Island
with the Russian walrus-hunters. I sat and slept at the helm of their
ship, as they sailed away from North Cape. Sometimes when I woke, the
storm-birds would fly about my legs. They are curious birds; they give
one flap with their wings, and then on their outstretched pinions soar
far away.”

“Don’t make such a long story of it,” said the mother of the winds; “what
sort of a place is Bear’s Island?”

“A very beautiful place, with a floor for dancing as smooth and flat as a
plate. Half-melted snow, partly covered with moss, sharp stones, and
skeletons of walruses and polar-bears, lie all about, their gigantic
limbs in a state of green decay. It would seem as if the sun never shone
there. I blew gently, to clear away the mist, and then I saw a little
hut, which had been built from the wood of a wreck, and was covered with
the skins of the walrus, the fleshy side outwards; it looked green and
red, and on the roof sat a growling bear. Then I went to the sea shore,
to look after birds’ nests, and saw the unfledged nestlings opening their
mouths and screaming for food. I blew into the thousand little throats,
and quickly stopped their screaming. Farther on were the walruses with
pig’s heads, and teeth a yard long, rolling about like great worms.”

“After that,” continued the North Wind, “the hunting commenced. The
harpoon was flung into the breast of the walrus, so that a smoking stream
of blood spurted forth like a fountain, and besprinkled the ice. Then I
thought of my own game; I began to blow, and set my own ships, the great
icebergs sailing, so that they might crush the boats. Oh, how the sailors
howled and cried out! but I howled louder than they. They were obliged to
unload their cargo, and throw their chests and the dead walruses on the
ice. Then I sprinkled snow over them, and left them in their crushed
boats to drift southward, and to taste salt water. They will never return
to Bear’s Island.”

“So you have done mischief,” said the mother of the Winds.

“I shall leave others to tell the good I have done,” he replied. “But
here comes my brother from the West; I like him best of all, for he has
the smell of the sea about him, and brings in a cold, fresh air as he
enters.”

“Is that the little Zephyr?” asked the prince.

“Yes, it is the little Zephyr,” said the old woman; “but he is not little
now. In years gone by he was a beautiful boy; now that is all past.”

He came in, looking like a wild man, and he wore a slouched hat to
protect his head from injury. In his hand he carried a club, cut from a
mahogany tree in the American forests, not a trifle to carry.

“Whence do you come?” asked the mother.

“I come from the wilds of the forests, where the thorny brambles form
thick hedges between the trees; where the water-snake lies in the wet
grass, and mankind seem to be unknown.”

“What were you doing there?”

“I looked into the deep river, and saw it rushing down from the rocks.
The water drops mounted to the clouds and glittered in the rainbow. I saw
the wild buffalo swimming in the river, but the strong tide carried him
away amidst a flock of wild ducks, which flew into the air as the waters
dashed onwards, leaving the buffalo to be hurled over the waterfall. This
pleased me; so I raised a storm, which rooted up old trees, and sent them
floating down the river.”

“And what else have you done?” asked the old woman.

“I have rushed wildly across the savannahs; I have stroked the wild
horses, and shaken the cocoa-nuts from the trees. Yes, I have many
stories to relate; but I need not tell everything I know. You know it all
very well, don’t you, old lady?” And he kissed his mother so roughly,
that she nearly fell backwards. Oh, he was, indeed, a wild fellow.

Now in came the South Wind, with a turban and a flowing Bedouin cloak.

“How cold it is here!” said he, throwing more wood on the fire. “It is
easy to feel that the North Wind has arrived here before me.”

“Why it is hot enough here to roast a bear,” said the North Wind.

“You are a bear yourself,” said the other.

“Do you want to be put in the sack, both of you?” said the old woman.
“Sit down, now, on that stone, yonder, and tell me where you have been.”

“In Africa, mother. I went out with the Hottentots, who were lion-hunting
in the Kaffir land, where the plains are covered with grass the color of
a green olive; and here I ran races with the ostrich, but I soon
outstripped him in swiftness. At last I came to the desert, in which lie
the golden sands, looking like the bottom of the sea. Here I met a
caravan, and the travellers had just killed their last camel, to obtain
water; there was very little for them, and they continued their painful
journey beneath the burning sun, and over the hot sands, which stretched
before them a vast, boundless desert. Then I rolled myself in the loose
sand, and whirled it in burning columns over their heads. The dromedarys
stood still in terror, while the merchants drew their caftans over their
heads, and threw themselves on the ground before me, as they do before
Allah, their god. Then I buried them beneath a pyramid of sand, which
covers them all. When I blow that away on my next visit, the sun will
bleach their bones, and travellers will see that others have been there
before them; otherwise, in such a wild desert, they might not believe it
possible.”

“So you have done nothing but evil,” said the mother. “Into the sack with
you;” and, before he was aware, she had seized the South Wind round the
body, and popped him into the bag. He rolled about on the floor, till she
sat herself upon him to keep him still.

“These boys of yours are very lively,” said the prince.

“Yes,” she replied, “but I know how to correct them, when necessary; and
here comes the fourth.” In came the East Wind, dressed like a Chinese.

“Oh, you come from that quarter, do you?” said she; “I thought you had
been to the garden of paradise.”

“I am going there to-morrow,” he replied; “I have not been there for a
hundred years. I have just come from China, where I danced round the
porcelain tower till all the bells jingled again. In the streets an
official flogging was taking place, and bamboo canes were being broken on
the shoulders of men of every high position, from the first to the ninth
grade. They cried, ‘Many thanks, my fatherly benefactor;’ but I am sure
the words did not come from their hearts, so I rang the bells till they
sounded, ‘ding, ding-dong.’”

“You are a wild boy,” said the old woman; “it is well for you that you
are going to-morrow to the garden of paradise; you always get improved in
your education there. Drink deeply from the fountain of wisdom while you
are there, and bring home a bottleful for me.”

“That I will,” said the East Wind; “but why have you put my brother South
in a bag? Let him out; for I want him to tell me about the phoenix-bird.
The princess always wants to hear of this bird when I pay her my visit
every hundred years. If you will open the sack, sweetest mother, I will
give you two pocketfuls of tea, green and fresh as when I gathered it
from the spot where it grew.”

“Well, for the sake of the tea, and because you are my own boy, I will
open the bag.”

She did so, and the South Wind crept out, looking quite cast down,
because the prince had seen his disgrace.

“There is a palm-leaf for the princess,” he said. “The old phoenix, the
only one in the world, gave it to me himself. He has scratched on it with
his beak the whole of his history during the hundred years he has lived.
She can there read how the old phoenix set fire to his own nest, and sat
upon it while it was burning, like a Hindoo widow. The dry twigs around
the nest crackled and smoked till the flames burst forth and consumed the
phoenix to ashes. Amidst the fire lay an egg, red hot, which presently
burst with a loud report, and out flew a young bird. He is the only
phoenix in the world, and the king over all the other birds. He has
bitten a hole in the leaf which I give you, and that is his greeting to
the princess.”

“Now let us have something to eat,” said the mother of the Winds. So they
all sat down to feast on the roasted stag; and as the prince sat by the
side of the East Wind, they soon became good friends.

“Pray tell me,” said the prince, “who is that princess of whom you have
been talking! and where lies the garden of paradise?”

“Ho! ho!” said the East Wind, “would you like to go there? Well, you can
fly off with me to-morrow; but I must tell you one thing—no human being
has been there since the time of Adam and Eve. I suppose you have read of
them in your Bible.”

“Of course I have,” said the prince.

“Well,” continued the East Wind, “when they were driven out of the garden
of paradise, it sunk into the earth; but it retained its warm sunshine,
its balmy air, and all its splendor. The fairy queen lives there, in the
island of happiness, where death never comes, and all is beautiful. I can
manage to take you there to-morrow, if you will sit on my back. But now
don’t talk any more, for I want to go to sleep;” and then they all slept.

When the prince awoke in the early morning, he was not a little surprised
at finding himself high up above the clouds. He was seated on the back of
the East Wind, who held him faithfully; and they were so high in the air
that woods and fields, rivers and lakes, as they lay beneath them, looked
like a painted map.

“Good morning,” said the East Wind. “You might have slept on a while; for
there is very little to see in the flat country over which we are passing
unless you like to count the churches; they look like spots of chalk on a
green board.” The green board was the name he gave to the green fields
and meadows.

“It was very rude of me not to say good-bye to your mother and your
brothers,” said the prince.

“They will excuse you, as you were asleep,” said the East Wind; and then
they flew on faster than ever.

The leaves and branches of the trees rustled as they passed. When they
flew over seas and lakes, the waves rose higher, and the large ships
dipped into the water like diving swans. As darkness came on, towards
evening, the great towns looked charming; lights were sparkling, now seen
now hidden, just as the sparks go out one after another on a piece of
burnt paper. The prince clapped his hands with pleasure; but the East
Wind advised him not to express his admiration in that manner, or he
might fall down, and find himself hanging on a church steeple. The eagle
in the dark forests flies swiftly; but faster than he flew the East Wind.
The Cossack, on his small horse, rides lightly o’er the plains; but
lighter still passed the prince on the winds of the wind.

“There are the Himalayas, the highest mountains in Asia,” said the East
Wind. “We shall soon reach the garden of paradise now.”

Then, they turned southward, and the air became fragrant with the perfume
of spices and flowers. Here figs and pomegranates grew wild, and the
vines were covered with clusters of blue and purple grapes. Here they
both descended to the earth, and stretched themselves on the soft grass,
while the flowers bowed to the breath of the wind as if to welcome it.
“Are we now in the garden of paradise?” asked the prince.

“No, indeed,” replied the East Wind; “but we shall be there very soon. Do
you see that wall of rocks, and the cavern beneath it, over which the
grape vines hang like a green curtain? Through that cavern we must pass.
Wrap your cloak round you; for while the sun scorches you here, a few
steps farther it will be icy cold. The bird flying past the entrance to
the cavern feels as if one wing were in the region of summer, and the
other in the depths of winter.”

“So this then is the way to the garden of paradise?” asked the prince, as
they entered the cavern. It was indeed cold; but the cold soon passed,
for the East Wind spread his wings, and they gleamed like the brightest
fire. As they passed on through this wonderful cave, the prince could see
great blocks of stone, from which water trickled, hanging over their
heads in fantastic shapes. Sometimes it was so narrow that they had to
creep on their hands and knees, while at other times it was lofty and
wide, like the free air. It had the appearance of a chapel for the dead,
with petrified organs and silent pipes. “We seem to be passing through
the valley of death to the garden of paradise,” said the prince.

But the East Wind answered not a word, only pointed forwards to a lovely
blue light which gleamed in the distance. The blocks of stone assumed a
misty appearance, till at last they looked like white clouds in
moonlight. The air was fresh and balmy, like a breeze from the mountains
perfumed with flowers from a valley of roses. A river, clear as the air
itself, sparkled at their feet, while in its clear depths could be seen
gold and silver fish sporting in the bright water, and purple eels
emitting sparks of fire at every moment, while the broad leaves of the
water-lilies, that floated on its surface, flickered with all the colors
of the rainbow. The flower in its color of flame seemed to receive its
nourishment from the water, as a lamp is sustained by oil. A marble
bridge, of such exquisite workmanship that it appeared as if formed of
lace and pearls, led to the island of happiness, in which bloomed the
garden of paradise. The East Wind took the prince in his arms, and
carried him over, while the flowers and the leaves sang the sweet songs
of his childhood in tones so full and soft that no human voice could
venture to imitate. Within the garden grew large trees, full of sap; but
whether they were palm-trees or gigantic water-plants, the prince knew
not. The climbing plants hung in garlands of green and gold, like the
illuminations on the margins of old missals or twined among the initial
letters. Birds, flowers, and festoons appeared intermingled in seeming
confusion. Close by, on the grass, stood a group of peacocks, with
radiant tails outspread to the sun. The prince touched them, and found,
to his surprise, that they were not really birds, but the leaves of the
burdock tree, which shone with the colors of a peacock’s tail. The lion
and the tiger, gentle and tame, were springing about like playful cats
among the green bushes, whose perfume was like the fragrant blossom of
the olive. The plumage of the wood-pigeon glistened like pearls as it
struck the lion’s mane with its wings; while the antelope, usually so
shy, stood near, nodding its head as if it wished to join in the frolic.
The fairy of paradise next made her appearance. Her raiment shone like
the sun, and her serene countenance beamed with happiness like that of a
mother rejoicing over her child. She was young and beautiful, and a train
of lovely maidens followed her, each wearing a bright star in her hair.
The East Wind gave her the palm-leaf, on which was written the history of
the phoenix; and her eyes sparkled with joy. She then took the prince by
the hand, and led him into her palace, the walls of which were richly
colored, like a tulip-leaf when it is turned to the sun. The roof had the
appearance of an inverted flower, and the colors grew deeper and brighter
to the gazer. The prince walked to a window, and saw what appeared to be
the tree of knowledge of good and evil, with Adam and Eve standing by,
and the serpent near them. “I thought they were banished from paradise,”
he said.

The princess smiled, and told him that time had engraved each event on a
window-pane in the form of a picture; but, unlike other pictures, all
that it represented lived and moved,—the leaves rustled, and the persons
went and came, as in a looking-glass. He looked through another pane, and
saw the ladder in Jacob’s dream, on which the angels were ascending and
descending with outspread wings. All that had ever happened in the world
here lived and moved on the panes of glass, in pictures such as time
alone could produce. The fairy now led the prince into a large, lofty
room with transparent walls, through which the light shone. Here were
portraits, each one appearing more beautiful than the other—millions of
happy beings, whose laughter and song mingled in one sweet melody: some
of these were in such an elevated position that they appeared smaller
than the smallest rosebud, or like pencil dots on paper. In the centre of
the hall stood a tree, with drooping branches, from which hung golden
apples, both great and small, looking like oranges amid the green leaves.
It was the tree of knowledge of good and evil, from which Adam and Eve
had plucked and eaten the forbidden fruit, and from each leaf trickled a
bright red dewdrop, as if the tree were weeping tears of blood for their
sin. “Let us now take the boat,” said the fairy: “a sail on the cool
waters will refresh us. But we shall not move from the spot, although the
boat may rock on the swelling water; the countries of the world will
glide before us, but we shall remain still.”

It was indeed wonderful to behold. First came the lofty Alps, snow-clad,
and covered with clouds and dark pines. The horn resounded, and the
shepherds sang merrily in the valleys. The banana-trees bent their
drooping branches over the boat, black swans floated on the water, and
singular animals and flowers appeared on the distant shore. New
Holland, the fifth division of the world, now glided by, with
mountains in the background, looking blue in the distance. They heard the
song of the priests, and saw the wild dance of the savage to the sound of
the drums and trumpets of bone; the pyramids of Egypt rising to the
clouds; columns and sphinxes, overthrown and buried in the sand, followed
in their turn; while the northern lights flashed out over the
extinguished volcanoes of the north, in fireworks none could imitate.

The prince was delighted, and yet he saw hundreds of other wonderful
things more than can be described. “Can I stay here forever?” asked he.

“That depends upon yourself,” replied the fairy. “If you do not, like
Adam, long for what is forbidden, you can remain here always.”

“I should not touch the fruit on the tree of knowledge,” said the prince;
there is abundance of fruit equally beautiful.”

“Examine your own heart,” said the princess, “and if you do not feel sure
of its strength, return with the East Wind who brought you. He is about
to fly back, and will not return here for a hundred years. The time will
not seem to you more than a hundred hours, yet even that is a long time
for temptation and resistance. Every evening, when I leave you, I shall
be obliged to say, ‘Come with me,’ and to beckon to you with my hand. But
you must not listen, nor move from your place to follow me; for with
every step you will find your power to resist weaker. If once you
attempted to follow me, you would soon find yourself in the hall, where
grows the tree of knowledge, for I sleep beneath its perfumed branches.
If you stooped over me, I should be forced to smile. If you then kissed
my lips, the garden of paradise would sink into the earth, and to you it
would be lost. A keen wind from the desert would howl around you; cold
rain fall on your head, and sorrow and woe be your future lot.”

“I will remain,” said the prince.

So the East Wind kissed him on the forehead, and said, “Be firm; then
shall we meet again when a hundred years have passed. Farewell,
farewell.” Then the East Wind spread his broad pinions, which shone like
the lightning in harvest, or as the northern lights in a cold winter.

“Farewell, farewell,” echoed the trees and the flowers.

Storks and pelicans flew after him in feathery bands, to accompany him to
the boundaries of the garden.

“Now we will commence dancing,” said the fairy; “and when it is nearly
over at sunset, while I am dancing with you, I shall make a sign, and ask
you to follow me: but do not obey. I shall be obliged to repeat the same
thing for a hundred years; and each time, when the trial is past, if you
resist, you will gain strength, till resistance becomes easy, and at last
the temptation will be quite overcome. This evening, as it will be the
first time, I have warned you.”

After this the fairy led him into a large hall, filled with transparent
lilies. The yellow stamina of each flower formed a tiny golden harp, from
which came forth strains of music like the mingled tones of flute and
lyre. Beautiful maidens, slender and graceful in form, and robed in
transparent gauze, floated through the dance, and sang of the happy life
in the garden of paradise, where death never entered, and where all would
bloom forever in immortal youth. As the sun went down, the whole heavens
became crimson and gold, and tinted the lilies with the hue of roses.
Then the beautiful maidens offered to the prince sparkling wine; and when
he had drank, he felt happiness greater than he had ever known before.
Presently the background of the hall opened and the tree of knowledge
appeared, surrounded by a halo of glory that almost blinded him. Voices,
soft and lovely as his mother’s sounded in his ears, as if she were
singing to him, “My child, my beloved child.” Then the fairy beckoned to
him, and said in sweet accents, “Come with me, come with me.” Forgetting
his promise, forgetting it even on the very first evening, he rushed
towards her, while she continued to beckon to him and to smile. The
fragrance around him overpowered his senses, the music from the harps
sounded more entrancing, while around the tree appeared millions of
smiling faces, nodding and singing. “Man should know everything; man is
the lord of the earth.” The tree of knowledge no longer wept tears of
blood, for the dewdrops shone like glittering stars.

“Come, come,” continued that thrilling voice, and the prince followed the
call. At every step his cheeks glowed, and the blood rushed wildly
through his veins. “I must follow,” he cried; “it is not a sin, it cannot
be, to follow beauty and joy. I only want to see her sleep, and nothing
will happen unless I kiss her, and that I will not do, for I have
strength to resist, and a determined will.”

The fairy threw off her dazzling attire, bent back the boughs, and in
another moment was hidden among them.

“I have not sinned yet,” said the prince, “and I will not;” and then he
pushed aside the boughs to follow the princess. She was lying already
asleep, beautiful as only a fairy in the garden of paradise could be. She
smiled as he bent over her, and he saw tears trembling out of her
beautiful eyelashes. “Do you weep for me?” he whispered. “Oh weep not,
thou loveliest of women. Now do I begin to understand the happiness of
paradise; I feel it to my inmost soul, in every thought. A new life is
born within me. One moment of such happiness is worth an eternity of
darkness and woe.” He stooped and kissed the tears from her eyes, and
touched her lips with his.

A clap of thunder, loud and awful, resounded through the trembling air.
All around him fell into ruin. The lovely fairy, the beautiful garden,
sunk deeper and deeper. The prince saw it sinking down in the dark night
till it shone only like a star in the distance beneath him. Then he felt
a coldness, like death, creeping over him; his eyes closed, and he became
insensible.

When he recovered, a chilling rain was beating upon him, and a sharp wind
blew on his head. “Alas! what have I done?” he sighed; “I have sinned
like Adam, and the garden of paradise has sunk into the earth.” He opened
his eyes, and saw the star in the distance, but it was the morning star
in heaven which glittered in the darkness.

Presently he stood up and found himself in the depths of the forest,
close to the cavern of the Winds, and the mother of the Winds sat by his
side. She looked angry, and raised her arm in the air as she spoke. “The
very first evening!” she said. “Well, I expected it! If you were my son,
you should go into the sack.”

“And there he will have to go at last,” said a strong old man, with large
black wings, and a scythe in his hand, whose name was Death. “He shall be
laid in his coffin, but not yet. I will allow him to wander about the
world for a while, to atone for his sin, and to give him time to become
better. But I shall return when he least expects me. I shall lay him in a
black coffin, place it on my head, and fly away with it beyond the stars.
There also blooms a garden of paradise, and if he is good and pious he
will be admitted; but if his thoughts are bad, and his heart is full of
sin, he will sink with his coffin deeper than the garden of paradise has
sunk. Once in every thousand years I shall go and fetch him, when he will
either be condemned to sink still deeper, or be raised to a happier life
in the world beyond the stars.”